


The Many Times, Places, and Faces of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson

by grnidshrk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Challenges, Drabbles, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grnidshrk/pseuds/grnidshrk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Answers to <a href="http://team-watson.livejournal.com/">Team Watson</a>'s, for the <a href="http://thegameison-sh.livejournal.com/">thegameison_sh</a> Challenge community, Drabble Bingo. The Card is posted <a href="http://grnidshrk.livejournal.com/22936.html">here</a> on my LJ account.</p><p>Each Drabble is a separate entry and the titles of them are which square I filled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deft

Sherlock was a brilliant pickpocket and don't get him started on playing poker with the man. It just wasn't to be done.

However, Geoff Lestrade had never taken Sherlock's flat-mate and Doctor, possibly the man's only friend, as a cardsharp. The man's hands moved with a subtle ease he'd more than likely had long before he had invited him to start playing with him and a few of the others from the Met. John, as he'd asked to be called, shuffled the cards with deft movements and a predatory smirk on his face.

This was not going to be good.


	2. Incapacitated

Mycroft sighed heartily as he stared at the two forms tucked securely into the beds in front of him.

The blast had left no lasting damage on either of them, however it had left his brother incapacitated and John injured badly for the time being. He was surprised that the good Doctor had been able to pull them as far away from the wreckage he had with his bad leg really injured along with his right arm. If there was something he had to give the man credit for, it was his incomparable tenacity.

Good, he could keep up then.


	3. Cello

It wasn't often that he came home to have tea with his mother, but Sherlock had been an absolute nightmare, it was all he could do to get out of there.

She had few requests in life so he felt the urge to grant her this even though it'd been since the middle of med school since he'd played.

He placed the cello between his thighs and thought hard about what to play and closed his eyes, he wasn't a savant, but he knew music.

Drawing the bow he played his instrument, the cello, with his all, just for her.


	4. Musical

Sherlock had never though John had any musical talent. He had no calluses; he didn't tap out rhythms or hum excessively like many did.

So the delivery of a dark redwood, almost black, Cello and accompanying bow from Mycroft almost stumped him until he found the note.

So Mycroft spied on John's mother too, it was reassuring. 

That she could cajole him into something he must not have done for a rather long time without fuss was brilliant. He might have to ask her how she did it.

It would be a wonder to have someone to play along with.


	5. Feverish

They kissed with a feverish intensity, adrenaline coursing through their veins as Sherlock pinned John up against the brick wall of the alley he pushed them into. The last run in with Sebastian Moran, just moments ago, had been too close.

In the back of his mind, Sherlock was already making a plan to deal with Moriarty and his men once and for all. It would take time and cunning, take anonymity and solitude. 

He would have to leave John behind; safe.

Until it could be put into effect, he'd steal as much time with his Doctor as he could.


	6. Inspection

John Watson, Doctor, scowled ferociously as he cleaned his gun.

He cared about his roommate greatly, however there were times, much like this one, where he wondered what went through his mind. There was some kind of viscous fluid, thick and sticky, coating the slide and inside the barrel. If he didn't manage to get all of it off without damaging the metal or the guns integrity he'd have to just sell it for scrap or something.

It wasn't something he was looking forward to, he liked this gun.

He sighed in relief as the mystery gunk sloughed off the slide when he removed it from the solvent. He took one of the many brushes and made sure to clean all of the groves. This weapon had saved him and Sherlock countless times. It wasn't going to do that anymore unless he gave it the meticulous inspection and care it deserved.

Sherlock watched, sulking, from his perch as his flat-mate tend to the object that he had handled without though of the consequence so many times before. It had suffered during one his experiments and, as he had suffered from the result of that experiment, it never would again.

Ever.


	7. Sip

John took a long sip of the brandy that filled the glass in front of him, his mind lost to numbing chaos—Sherlock was gone, no body broken beyond repair, just gone—and he was left alone in 221b Baker with thousands of wonderful memories of a man who could no longer shoot at the wall when he was bored or blow up horrid experiments of body parts and chemicals; his lover, the man who brought him back to life, was gone.


End file.
